


Fever

by LostForeverInHisEyes



Series: Fever Series [1]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostForeverInHisEyes/pseuds/LostForeverInHisEyes
Summary: Callen gets a cold. Hetty orders Sam to take him home but will that help Callen get better or will Sam be driven to doing something drastic? Callen/Sam/Hetty.





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing from FF. This one is the first of a series of one-shots that are some my favourite work that I've written that is simply team orientated. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Callen, Sam and Hetty not mine. Grateful for the owners to let me play with their characters and in their world.

 

* * *

 

"Mr Callen."

Hetty's voice was firm, serious and held a touch of exasperation.

Callen stopped and turned around, somewhat reluctantly.

"Yes Hetty," he managed to choke out before he sneezed. Internally he sighed. He had hoped that no one would notice anything was wrong.

"You are sick," Hetty stated simply, her gaze firmly locked on his face.

"I'm fine, Hetty," Callen assured her, before promptly dissolving into a coughing fit that left his eyes watering.

Hetty stepped up to him, placed a hand on his arm and pulled him down to her level, so he was looking her in the eye. She placed a hand on his forehead and, despite all of his training at hiding any and every emotion, Callen couldn't help it when a small moan of relief escaped him at the coolness of her hand on his hot head.

"You are burning up. 102 if I'm correct. You should be at home in bed."

"Hetty, I'm fine. It's not like we have any active cases," Callen replied. Was that really his voice? Even he didn't recognise that rattly, scratching sound that came out of his mouth.

Hetty raised her eyebrows at him. "Indeed. So why in heavens name did you even come in today?" she asked, exasperation filling her tone this time rather than just being hinted at.

"Umm, because it's Tuesday," Callen replied with a weak smirk … and another sneeze. "Plus, I'm pretty sure I used up my sick leave a while ago."

"Mr Callen," Hetty shook her head at him, "so help me if you ever come in here looking like you are death only slightly warmed up, I will personally escort you to the hospital and admit you, possibly to the psychiatric ward. And don't think I couldn't. Nate owes me."

"Don't we all?" Callen retorted. Hetty knew how much he hated hospitals. She wouldn't really would she? Callen looked her carefully and came to the quick conclusion that yes, she definitely would.

Hetty's gaze slipped from his briefly and Callen started to move away, hoping to get to his desk before he fell over. Yes, he was sick, but it was just a cold. Okay, admittedly a bad one, but he'd worked through worse before. This was nothing compared to spending five hours trudging through a forest, with no supplies and an infected knife wound bleeding from his leg. He'd survived that and come into work the next day. But Hetty had sent him home then too. He couldn't quite remember how she had done that though. Part of him wasn't sure he wanted to.

"Mr Hanna," Hetty called out. Her hand reached out to Callen and stopped him moving. "Don't even think about it, Mr Callen. You are going home," she stated firmly in that tone of hers that no one usually countered.

"What is it, Hetty?" Sam asked as he stepped up beside them.

"Take Mr Callen home. Put him to bed and make sure he stays there. I do not want to see either of you back in the office until he is fit to be here."

Callen made a protest, even if it was only a token one. However, Hetty stopped him before anything more than a pitiful sound could make its way out of his mouth.

"Correction," she added, eyeing Callen up and down. "Until _I feel_ he is fit to be here."

Sam nodded and held back a smirk, mainly because he had just taken a good look at Callen and saw just how bad he was. He completely understood Hetty's concern.

"Let's go G."

"But my car," Callen protested.

"You _drove?_ "Hetty asked.

Callen winced at the tone. He had a feeling he was now in bigger trouble for that than for coming into the office sick.

"How else would I get here? Take the bus?" Callen asked sarcastically, firmly hoping that there was some degree of leniency in Hetty to allow him to get away with that because he was sick. Perhaps she would simply put it down as the fever talking.

Sam's eyebrows shot up and he wondered briefly if he should step between Hetty and Callen, to protect his partner, but there was a certain degree of self-preservation that kept him where he was. Plus, if Callen was this sick and he had driven, he deserved everything Hetty could throw at him. Even Sam could see his reflexes were shot, since Hetty had just stepped closer to him and it had taken a few brief moments for there to be any sign of a reaction from Callen.

"Mr Callen. The psychiatric ward will seem like a five star Caribbean resort if you _ever_ drive one of my vehicles in anything resembling the state you are in right now. You could have been killed!"

Sam could hear the concern in Hetty's voice had nothing to do with the vehicle in question and everything to do with Callen. He wondered if Callen heard it as well.

"I could be killed any time Hetty, you know that. There are enough people out there that want me dead."

"Yes," Hetty agreed and Callen briefly wondered, given the emphasis she put on that one word, if there were times where she was actually on that list. "And those," Hetty continued, "I can keep an eye on and do something about. It appears that I need to step up my surveillance of you to ensure your own stupidity doesn't get you killed. Now go home, do what Mr Hanna tells you, or it will be me giving you a sponge bath and tucking you into bed instead of Mr Hanna."

Callen swallowed and finally found some sort of control over his mouth and kept it shut. He turned toward the door and took a step, promptly tripping over his own feet. He looked around for something to blame and when his eyes settled on Sam, his smart alec brain almost took over with a retort about Sam tripping him. But a lift of Sam's eyebrows and a slight tilt of Sam's head back toward Hetty and Callen, for the second time in less than a minute, managed to keep his mouth shut.

When Callen almost tripped over again, Sam put an arm under his and steered him the rest of the way to the car, putting him in the seat and doing up the seat belt, though Callen did protest at this.

"I'm not a baby Sam. I can do it up myself," he said swatting at Sam's hand.

If Sam hadn't been so worried about him, he would have chuckled at that very pathetic reaction.

"Yeah? How many fingers am I holding up?" Sam asked as he held up his hand.

"Two?" Callen answered vaguely, hoping he was right. Things were going a little blurry.

"Four," Sam corrected. By this time the belt was already done up and Sam closed the door. When Sam slipped into the driver's seat, Callen was shivering.

"Stupid weather, it's supposed to be summer but it's damn near freezing," Callen muttered.

"G. It is summer and it's 98 out there. We're melting," Sam replied as he started the car and turned the air-conditioning on full.

"Gee Sam," Callen said as he pulled himself into a ball away from the blast of air, "nice way to treat your sick partner. Freeze him."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shut up G. Go to sleep."

For once that sounded blissful and Callen put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. Though he couldn't resist one last comment to Sam.

"By the way, there is no way you are going to give me a sponge bath."

"I'll leave that up to Hetty," Sam agreed.

"Not Hetty either," Callen said, with a slight shake of his head.

"You prefer Kensi, Eric or Nate?"

But Callen didn't hear those options, he was already asleep.

Sam glanced across at his partner. The concern washed over his face now that Callen was out of it. He'd never seen Callen so floored by anything like this unless it was a bullet. He was pale and said he was cold, yet there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his breathing was uneven and raspy even though he was sleeping.

Sam shook his head and focused back on his driving. The last thing Callen needed was for him to crash the car, not to mention that Sam certainly didn't want a reprimand from Hetty about how Callen had managed to drive in his state of illness but Sam couldn't even though he was thoroughly fit.

Sam pulled up at Callen's current place of residence; for once a one bedroom flat rather than a studio. Seeing his partner still out of it, Sam decided to just carry him in instead of waking him. At least that was what he was attempting to do when Callen decided to start fighting him tooth and nail as if he was the enemy. Which considering Callen's potential nightmares, it was entirely possible that was what he was thinking.

Sam let out a hiss when Callen's elbow connected with his head, narrowly missing an eye.

"G! It's me, Sam. Come on," Sam pleaded.

"Sam?" Callen tried in vain to open his eyes fully. The voice was familiar.

"Yeah. Come on. Let's get you inside."

"Where are we?" Callen asked as he leaned helplessly against his partner. His legs didn't want to work and he wondered what the hell had happened to him this time. He tried to find where the pain was but he couldn't get his mind to place any injuries.

"Your place," Sam replied as he mentally debated just picking Callen up.

"What happened to me?"

Sam stopped at that question and looked at his partner with a frown. "What happened to you?"

"Yeah."

"You're sick. Hetty sent you home."

Callen frowned this time. "Hetty sent me home? Sick? What, did she torture me first?"

Sam chuckled. "No, but she has threatened that she'll give you a sponge bath if you don't listen to me."

Callen snorted, though it turned into a wrenching cough before he found his voice again. "I always listen to you. That's not a threat."

"Okay, so it was more that you needed to do what I told you."

"Now that would make it a threat." Callen stumbled at the steps and Sam gave up. Not caring what the neighbours might think, he picked Callen up and moved quickly to the door.

"Sam."

"What is it G?" Sam asked not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"You're not carrying me over the threshold."

"If you can walk without tripping, I won't."

"Good, then put me down. I like this place and don't really want to have to move because of your Neanderthal ways."

Sam put Callen down at the door and held his hand out for the keys. Callen managed to pull them out of his pocket and tried to unlock his door.

Sam shook his head. "Hand them over, G."

"I can do this," Callen protested and tried again.

"Stop being so bloody independent and let me help," Sam snapped. "You're sick. It's not a sign of weakness to get some help."

"Says you, who never gets sick. How do you know it's not a sign of weakness?"

"Because if you were weak, Hetty would never have hired you. Too dangerous." Though Sam did have to wonder, considering all the scrapes his partner had been in, whether 'Too Dangerous' was synonymous with G Callen.

Reluctantly after a third unsuccessful try, Callen handed over the keys and Sam unlocked the door. Callen stumbled inside and headed straight for the couch. Sam grabbed his arm before he could collapse on it though.

"The bed, G. Not the couch."

"Why? I like this couch. It's almost as comfy as the one at the office."

Sam narrowly held back a sigh at the whiny sick tone coming from Callen. This was so not like his partner and he really hoped he wouldn't stay sick for long. There was only so much of this Sam thought he could handle before things hit the fan that shouldn't. "At the risk of repeating myself, you're sick. Go to bed, G."

"Stop mothering me," Callen grumbled.

"It's me or Hetty. Want me to call her and get her over here instead?"

A shudder went through Callen that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Fine." Callen moved to the bedroom and flopped on the bed, his legs dangled over the end of it but he didn't try and move anywhere.

Sam walked in a couple of minutes later with some cold medication he had found in the bathroom. He'd checked the expiry date to be sure, not entirely confident that it was something Callen had brought himself and not inherited from the previous tenant. Sam glanced at his partner and shook his head slightly. Callen was already out of it.

Quietly Sam moved closer. He put the water and the medication on the bedside table and then he carefully slipped off Callen's shoes and moved his legs onto the bed. Sam pulled the blanket across from the other side of the bed and covered him. Callen didn't move at all, which spoke volumes to Sam about how sick he was. For Callen to be this vulnerable and un-alert, whatever it was that had hit him had taken him down hard. Sam moved back to the living area and sat down, his mind wondering what he should be doing.

Sam knew Callen hated hospitals, but if he was this bad, should he be getting Callen checked over instead of trying to look after him himself? Sam pulled out his phone to call Hetty, but decided against it. He'd see how Callen was doing in the morning, or if he got worse between now and then, Sam would take him to the hospital, consequences be damned.

Sam got up and checked out Callen's kitchen and the limited supplies there. Not much for anyone to eat, let alone someone sick. Checking on his partner once more, Sam decided that there was time for him to slip to the shops for some food to tempt Callen back to health.

Sam slipped out the door quietly; making sure it was locked behind him. Twenty minutes later he was back; a supply of soups, bread, crackers and juice, plus some vitamins thrown in for good measure in a brown paper bag. After unpacking, he checked on Callen. He hadn't moved at all since Sam had first covered him up.

Sam turned to walk away, only to hear a moan coming from the bed. He stepped closer to Callen and tried to make out what was going on with him. The sweat on Callen's forehead was heavier than when he left and he put his hand out to check. In a brief and unexpected display of strength, Callen grabbed Sam's wrist in a pretty good lock, for about two seconds before his grip went lax and Callen's hand fell back to the bed with soft slump. Sam shook his head as he looked down at his still out of it partner. He wouldn't be leaving Callen alone again. He was too vulnerable at the moment and if any of Callen's enemies were to find out about it, they would take full advantage.

Sam knew he needed to get Callen to wake up and eat, but that probably wasn't going to be likely for a little while yet, so he settled himself down on the couch and pulled out his iPhone. Surely he could find something to read on-line whilst he waited for Callen to regain enough strength to wake up and eat.

Over the rest of the day and through the night, they settled into a routine. Callen would sleep for a few hours. Sam would wake him after he had some soup, crackers or toast ready. Callen would sit up and eat and then Sam would help him back to bed just before Callen was about to fall asleep in the food that was still left on his plate. Around 4 am, Sam fell asleep on the couch, exhausted. He'd been up on surveillance duty the night before so it had been almost thirty six hours since he'd slept.

"Come on, Sunshine. Time to wake up," came Callen's bright and irritatingly perky voice a few hours later.

Sam groaned and rolled over, forgetting he was on the couch and promptly hit the floor with a decidedly loud thud.

"Great," Callen moaned, though Sam was sure he could hear laughter in his voice. "What do you think the neighbours with think is going on now?"

Sam looked up at his partner and narrowed his eyes. "I'm dreaming."

Callen raised an eyebrow and his lips twitched, narrowly avoiding breaking out into a smirk. "You dream about me?"

"Not usually, but at least this way when I kill you, I won't get in trouble for it. You're supposed to be sick."

Callen shrugged. "Not anymore."

Sam stood up and looked his partner over. Callen definitely looked better. "You got better quick."

"Must have been all your TLC. You ready for work?"

Sam glanced at his watch. 8am. He looked back at Callen. "Hetty needs to approve you going back to work."

Callen waved his hand over his body. "All in perfect working order. Plus, you really think she'll send me home when I'm standing next to you who look like you haven't slept in a week. I'm safe. You on the other hand," Callen shook his head, "not so sure about."

"Shut up G," Sam grumbled. "After everything I've done for you, the least you could have done was wake me up with some coffee and a donut. You didn't even say thank you."

Callen had the grace to look contrite, at least that was what Sam thought before he opened his mouth. "I'm sorry Sam. Thank you. Thank you for saving me from a sponge bath from Hetty and the psychiatric ward."

Sam shook his head and walked to the door. "So the food, the late night watching over you and protecting you don't count for a thank you?"

Callen shook his head. "Nope, you do that all the time, nothing new. Come on, I'll even drive and you can catch a few z's before we get to the office."

"Ungrateful little…"

"You know you love me Sam," Callen cut him off.

As Callen turned to lock the door he let a smirk cross his face. Sam was so much fun to tease when he was sleepy. The ex-SEAL liked to think of himself as cool, calm and collected in any situation, but Callen knew just when he was vulnerable. During those first few minutes of waking up when he hadn't had much sleep.

Callen did drive but Sam didn't sleep.

They walked into the office and Hetty was upon them before they were even halfway to the bullpen.

"Mr Callen."

"Hetty."

Hetty's eyes ran over him and Callen had an unsettled feeling about her glasses and just what she could see with them. The vague thought of x-ray vision goggles crossed his mind.

"You are looking much better this morning," she said.

Callen nodded. "I'm fine Hetty, perfectly fine."

"Good," Hetty nodded. She glanced at Sam and then back to Callen. "I assume that Mr Hanna took excellent care of you."

"He did indeed, Hetty."

Sam rolled his eyes. "So you tell her but you won't tell me. Typical."

Hetty raised her eyebrows and Callen grinned.

"He's a little grumpy in the morning before coffee. Didn't help that he fell out of bed this morning."

"Didn't fall out of bed," Sam corrected, his tone though confirming the accuracy of the grumpy comment. "I fell off the couch when you rudely woke me up."

"Gentlemen." Hetty's firm tone stopped the squabbling. "Paperwork awaits. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can be back out in the field doing what you do best." Hetty turned and took two steps before a sneeze stopped her. She turned around and looked at Callen, a curious lift to her eyebrows.

Callen shook his head. "Wasn't me," he said quickly and pointed to Sam.

"Mr Hanna?"

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Part two (Fever Too) & Part three (Fever Free) follow.


End file.
